birth of a Killer
by James-Khandle
Summary: THe story of three individuals as they live in Racoon City during the outbreak.


He ran down the street firing behind him frantically. He turned corner after corner trying to lose the dead beings chasing after him. The shots entered the zombies with a thud but didn't seem to affect the zombies in any way. He reached a dead end and was suddenly cornered. The man looked around and chose to dive through a window. He rolled into the dark room and no one was inside, although the zombies' moans could still be heard outside. He wandered through the building, finding nothing of importance. A zombie jumped out from a dark corner, three shots, one entering its head, was enough to stop the hideous thing. The man, wearing a Racoon city police officer uniform opened the front door of the building and was met by several zombies. He slammed the door shut yet the scrapes of the zombies' decaying fingernails could be heard on the other side. He stopped for a moment to figure out his next move. That was when he heard sobs in the next room. He cautiously entered the room, his gun raised. That's when he saw her. A young woman, with red, shoulder blade length hair, was huddled in the corner sobbing to herself. She jumped at the sight of the man, and he had to duck to avoid the lamp thrown at him. "Hey, hey, I'm alive! My name is Chris"

Panting and holding his head, doubtful he'd make it out a live, Arin knelt down in the back of the restaurant where he worked. He'd been in some martial arts and on the school trap team, but this was nothing like that. He wasn't ready for it. "You ok kid?" Allen Barber, the manager was an older but staunch man with graying hair. He always took care of his workers but was tough when he needed to be. "I'm…fine…"Arin tried to avoid speaking when he was upset and disheveled. Mr. Barber stood up and cocked the shotgun he had always kept under the desk in his office. Arin tried to stand and barely managed with effort. He felt as though he was going to blow chunks. "C'mon Arin, stay calm." Arin opened his mouth to speak but instead followed by spewing all over the tile floor." Mr. Barber shook his head and prayed to God that the two would make it.

The police officer and the girl had barricaded themselves in the tiny, dirty apartment room. Chris knew that they couldn't stay their forever, they'd starve to death, but he was happy to be out of immediate danger. Chris wasn't from this town. He had moved to Racoon City about two years ago to join the police force. He know knelt in the corner, holding a blanket over the girl, whose name was Chelsea, as she ate some crackers found in the drawer of the wooden nightstand. The sluggish movements of the creatures outside could be heard as they hunted for food like animals. Chris was determined to stay alive. They had to make it out alive. He began to go over his equipment, checking to see what he had. The silence began to arouse the fear in Chelsea, so she chose to speak. "W-what's happened?" She asked in a sweet, yet naïve and frightened tone. "I don't know what made them…like that" was Chris' reply, his deep, masculine voice bringing a sense of comfort to her. He led her to a tattered old bed, knowing she would need rest for the journey they would later embark on. He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed, his pistol resting in his hands as he watched the door, periodically checking to see that Chelsea slept soundlessly.

After a good five minutes, Allen's strong words began to inspire Arin to be as strong and adapting to the situation as Mr. Barber was. He was a good manager, never complaining at Arin for being late, or not working hard enough. Once he even fended off a group of football players from beating Arin up, just because he was on the trap team. Arin quit the team anyway, but admired Mr. Barber just the same. This doesn't mean old Allen Barber was always a nice guy though. He was never seen without carrying a thick knife he was given in the army. He constantly threatened the rebellious drug addict teens that spat in the burgers and overzealously flirted with the women customers, who often left without buying anything. Arin never confronted them; he was always too shy. Mr. Barber hit out the window in the room they were in with the rifle butt and peered out it. He looked all the way down the street and saw nothing in the dusk light; He looked back at the still shaken Arin and thought that if he had a weapon he might feel more comfortable. "Here kid…" He took off the combat knife and held it out to Arin. Arin shook his head "I don't want it" "okay kid…"Allen didn't want to push him. He walked back to the window. He turned and said to Arin "You know, If you change you-" he was cut short by the mangled hand of a zombie as it covered his mouth from outside the window. Arin panicked but instinctively grabbed the knife and ran to his struggling manager. He began sawing away at the zombie's hand. Mr. Barber stayed calm and didn't flail. He bit down into the zombie's flesh as bits of its decaying material fell down into his throat, but it wasn't enough. The strong appendage reaped the man out of the window as blood covered the broken glass. Quicker than Arin could say anything, the zombie was climbing through the window and ready to eat.

Chris shook the redhead awake. He heard glass shatter and became very worried. He whispered gently to her "wake up, we have to go, stay close to me" The officer arose from the creaky bed and moved down the hall like a professional. He got near the kitchen passageway and he stood with his back to the wall next to the opening. He took a deep breath and stepped slowly into the open perimeter with his gun aimed steadily outward. The kitchen was tacky and poor. The only sources of light came from the hall and a flickering light from the refrigerator; its door was ajar. A pool of water sat on the floor, obviously from the sink before the water shut off. A cold breeze came from the broken window, causing the drapes to blow gently and eerily. As Chris cautiously approached the table, one of the chairs moved slightly, making a small screeching noise. Chris made a quick turn around, whipping his gun into the direction of the chair. Chelsea jumped and spoke quietly and embarrassed "I-I'm sorry" Chris sighed relieved "You should be a little more careful" he smirked. She smiled back sweetly holding her clenched hands up to her chest. He smiled still and turned his head. Then he jumped as a zombie lunged forward at Chris from a dark corner of the kitchen. Chris leapt backwards rolling onto the ground as the zombie, with most of her skin peeled off stumbled to get off the floor. Chelsea screamed and backed up against the wall. Chris had lost his gun and chose to grab one of the cheap, tacky chairs. As the zombie went at him again, Chris swung with all his might at the zombies legs, taking both of the rotten appendages clean off. As the zombie continued to crawl towards her food, Chris calmly took his gun and stepped over the zombie and inserted two bullets into her head. The zombie lay motionless, a pool of blood forming around her.

"…Holy, shit…" Arin stumbled backwards and fell on his butt. He frightfully looked around for the knife and found it secured tightly in his grip. He was so confused and mixed up. At the same time his instincts grew inside. He hollered and shoved the blade of the knife into the chest of the beast. It didn't stutter. It didn't flinch. Arin growled and grabbed the shotgun. He crawled backwards quickly and shot off the zombie's leg. At point blank range, the object flew out the window. The zombie fell straight over but continued crawling, blood thirsty and hungry. Arin felt a trickle of fluid go down his leg as he cocked the gun and shot again. This time the monster's head lobbed off and rolled against a corner. Silence fell upon the room as Arin stared at what was left of the zombie just inches from his body. A sense of accomplishment overtook him, and he began to feel more confident in his situation, as hellish and impossible as it seemed. He felt something under him and found he had stumbled back onto a travel-sized bible. He smiled to himself and pocketed it. He sat there for awhile, reflecting on what had happened to him. Arin couldn't help after awhile to think about his family. His mother was a great person but he knew she was dead…he could feel it. His father left the family, leaving them with nothing. He had a stepfather but he never got along with him. He got the same feeling as he did with his mother. He also had a fragile and good-looking sister; She was the same age as him. Their relationship was fairly close. The same seemed to go for her. He was positive Chelsea was dead.

Chelsea stood panting, her back leaning against the wall. "Th-that was my mother. That thing was my mother" She began to cry out, tears streaming down her pretty face. Chris placed a comforting arm around her shoulder "I'm sorry, it wasn't your mother anymore" She buried her head into his chest and sobbed.

Chelsea was somewhat of a small girl. Her skin was rather pale and she had simple green eyes. She wore jeans and a white blouse. It was a cool night but they both were slightly covered in sweat. The hydration seemed to accent Chelsea's fair skin. Chris was a tall man. He had just gotten out of the police academy and his body was still fit from the physical training. His hair was black, average length and left up in a stylish way. He wore dark blue tactic pants, a navy colored police shirt and a black kevlar vest over it. He had a young handsome face. He pulled her away and climbed out the window, he stepped out into the alley and checked for any company. He then helped the redhead out of the window. They sneaked across the dark alley and entered another building. They were in the kitchen of a restaurant, the lights flickered on and off. The kitchen was dirty and stains were all over the counters.


End file.
